The Complexities of Faith
by sheriffandsteel
Summary: Daryl never believed in God so who exactly was he praying to every night?


For as long as he could remember Daryl Dixon had always known that God was just a pipe dream, a hopeful idea that people put stock into when they had nothing left to turn to. He learned to flinch when people used the word 'God', certain that nothing good was going to come after those three little letters of misguided blame.

He learned this from an early age after countless times of hearing his mother crying into her whiskey bottle about how God had made her love such a violent man. Learned it when his father would wipe Daryl's blood of off the leather belt he'd just beat him senseless with while telling him it was all a part of God's plan. He could still hear the word twisted in Merle's mouth like it was some foul concoction he didn't quite know how to swallow.

Daryl could count the number of times he had even been inside of a church on one hand. The few times he had passed within their doors, stood among those wooden pews, he had never felt so uncomfortable. Whether there was a God or not those places were for the believers, for good people. He did not belong inside those wooden walls. Even in the church that had walkers living in it Daryl still felt like he was the worst thing to be inside of it.

Every time Hershel brought up scripture, or the damn apocalypse being 'God's plan' it took everything in Daryl not to laugh or yell in his face. In fact, if he hadn't respected the man as much as he did he would've. God did not have a plan, had never had a plan. If there was a God or Gods out there then the only plan they had was to use people for their amusement. And Daryl was not about to pray to a deity who used him for some twisted kind of entertainment.

For thirty-five years no form of a pray slipped past his lips.

And then she showed up.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. She'd already been there for a while but Daryl was never one to move very quickly. It took a long time for him to notice her and when he did he found himself wishing that he hadn't.

But she had a way of getting under his skin and as he stared at her from the padded interior of a coffin Daryl was hit by the startling realization that he had never seen something that looked so pure or so whole. But instead of this aiding in him finding faith in the God that she so desperately prayed to when she thought that he was sleeping it only filled him with even more anger at the deity whose only plan was for them to suffer. How could any God let something so pure, so sweet, as Beth Greene live in this world? In this life?

Before Daryl could ever find an answer for that she was taken from him. Even when the prison had fallen he had never felt as empty as he did in her absence. The feeling only solidified his belief that there was no damn God out there watching over them, protecting them. There was nothing.

They were completely alone.

He was alone.

And then he wasn't.

The reunion with the Grimes boys and Michonne was rough and bloody and brutal. Daryl found himself almost glad that Beth hadn't been there to see it, not that he thought she would have survived very long with those men anyways. Whatever small part of him that was still alive, still aware, after her absence lit up again. But where she had formed within him an inferno he now had only the lowest flickering candle.

The flames were fed when he was confronted with others from the prison inside of that dark train car. It was able to burn bright enough for him to help them get out. But as the immediate threat to his person and his family died, the light dimmed. They began their journey to Washington DC and he shuffled after them in a despondent silence, knowing that he should look for Beth but also knowing that there would be no point if he tried.

She was gone, plain and simple.

But that first night, the sound of her sister's raw muffled sobs ringing in his ears Daryl began to wonder if he should try looking anyway. He knew if their roles were reversed she would never have given up on him. He could still hear the firmness of her voice as she chided him, "_Wouldn't kill ya to have a little faith."_

Daryl stared down at his dirty scarred hands, the moonlight illuminating a smear of dried walker blood coating the side of his palm. He inhaled sharply as he clasped his hands together, his eyes flickering shut.

He sat in silence for a long moment feeling like a damn fool. He had no idea how he was supposed to go about this, no idea of the protocol. He supposed he should start with a name or something, but what exactly was he supposed to call the figure he still didn't actually believe in?

Nothing came to his mind, nor his lips, and Daryl simply sat there with his dirty hands clutched in his lap until one word made it out of his mouth. It came out strangled, more of a gasp than an actual word, but eventually, "Please."

That was all he could say but Daryl thought it said it all. Please.

Please let her be alive.

Please let him find her.

The next day Daryl told the group he was leaving them. They met his stoic face with looks of surprise or disbelief until he shouldered his crossbow and nodded at Rick. To his credit it only took the man mere seconds before he realized what Daryl's plan was. The others still looked confused and Daryl decided that they at least deserved to know the reason for his deflection.

"I have to find her." he said as he turned from the group, knowing he wouldn't be able to stand seeing their faces as he left them anymore than he could stand saying her name out loud. Dead leaves crunched under his feet as he fled the camp, his back straight as he physically willed himself not to look back. He had barely reached the road before the sound of rushed footsteps headed after him. He cast a look sideways to see Maggie give him a small smile that held a twinge of knowledge to it as she nodded.

"We'll find her." she promised before she fell back to wait for Glenn and the others. Daryl headed down the road alone, but the sound of Abraham's protests never faded as the group dragged him unwillingly along after them.

That night in their new camp Daryl found himself clasping his hands together again. He still didn't really know why, didn't understand exactly what he was hoping to accomplish but his fingers still wound tightly around each other as he stared at the last flickering embers of their fire.

Perhaps it was because the group had agreed to search with him when Daryl was certain this morning would be the last time they ever saw each other or perhaps his defenses were simply worn down from the long day of walking but Daryl closed his eyes and once again whispered, "Please."

Hours blurred into days which blurred into weeks and still they found no sign of her. Daryl refused to let this slow him down, would have walked himself to the bone if the others had not required him to rest. He began to see that same knowing look in each of their faces as the search wore on. Even Abraham's protests of them needing to reach Washington died mid rant one day as Daryl rushed towards a walker that had long blonde hair, his heart lodged painfully in his throat. He forced himself to look at her face and when it wasn't the face he was seeking he felt a surge of gratitude he had never before experienced.

He killed the walker with perhaps a bit too much force, blood and brain matter splattering over his face. When he looked up his chest was heaving, not so much from the exertion of the kill but the fear that had fueled it. As he met the groups collective wide eyed stare he finally began to understand what their knowing looks were about.

He was in love with Beth Greene.

Daryl had known he felt something more than friendship for the youngest Greene, he had known that since he felt her cling to him mere seconds after he had screamed full on in her face. He didn't want to believe he was in love her, didn't want to think about it. But when you're alone with the person nonstop all day you find you don't really have much else to think about. It began to creep in slowly, the love that was clearly forming for her blooming inch by inch. On the porch when he told her of his past, in the woods as he taught her how to track, in that funeral home where he damn near almost told her before he realized it himself.

But before Daryl could even wrap his mind around the idea she was stolen from him and he was left with an emptiness where his heart had been.

At least now he understood the cause of the strange hole in his chest.

Daryl found he could not meet anyone's gaze for very long that night as he was certain that they would be able to see right through him if he did. As everyone's breath fell into the calm rhythm of slumber his hands folded together of their own accord as he peered up at the sky through the tree line.

"Please." he whispered, the pleading tone in his voice unfamiliar to even his own ears. "Please let her be alive."

He dared not ask for them to find each other. Daryl had yet to figure out who he was begging to every night and he did not want to put such a thought out there. Once he said it out loud it would only hurt him more when it never happened. It was safer this way. If Beth was alive, that was all he needed. Even if they never saw each other again if she was alive maybe he would be able to go on living too.

Even as he told himself that Daryl knew it was a lie. He would never be the same man he was before Beth Greene. She had changed something vital inside of him and it could not be undone.

The days began to blur into one of endless woods and the soft whispers of his companions.

"We're never going to find her."

"Even if she's alive how the hell do we catch up to her?"

"We need to call off this damn chase and get back to the mission."

Daryl let Maggie refute everyone's' plans to stop. She did so without complaint and everyday they still kept looking. Daryl decided Maggie was so adamant about not giving up because she had already given up on Beth once. She wasn't going to do so again.

So the days went on in one endless montage of woods and the nights passed in a turmoil of nightmares or vivid dreams of Beth that began to feel more like memories. Every night Daryl whispered his plea for Beth to be alive and every night he wondered if he was begging to a God he still didn't believe in or if he was begging to her.

Because if Daryl was willing to put his faith in someone that person would be Beth Greene.

Even as Daryl refused to let up the search a small part of his mind began to whisper back the doubts he heard the others say when they assumed he was out of earshot. Beth was dead and even if she wasn't they would never see her again. Daryl pushed the search harder in an attempt to drown out those stubborn voices in his head but a larger part than he realized must have been listening to them because when they did find her it took him a long moment to believe it was real.

A rainstorm was rendering them blind and the thunder was bound to bring a horde on top of them if they didn't stumble straight into one first. Daryl had to shove away the memory of the night he hunkered out a herd in a trunk with Beth as they postponed their search for her and instead searched for shelter. By the time they found a building they were all soaked to their skin and the chill of his body overrode Daryl's uncomfortable feeling that the building they were heading into was a church.

A flash of lightening illuminated the startling clean interior as Rick and Glenn bound the door shut behind them, the others fanning out to clear the place.

Daryl was making his way down the center aisle of pews when the door at the other end of the building eased open and a man walked out slowly, his hands up in the universal gesture of peace.

"Welcome travelers." he intoned, noticeably flinching when six weapons were immediately trained on him. "There is no need for violence. You are welcome to wait out the storm here. We're seeing a lot of weary travelers tonight."

Daryl kept his finger hovering over the trigger of his crossbow as the man (preacher? pastor? He had a churchy vibe to him) beckoned for a person to follow him out into the main part of the church. Daryl waited with baited breath certain that the man was having reinforcements come out. Therefore he was likely more surprised than anyone when a dirty, disheveled, but altogether alive, Beth slipped nervously out of the door.

Her eyes landed on Rosita first so she had surely been expecting a roomful of strangers as her eyes moved to scan the rest of the room. Daryl found his brain short circuiting at the sight of her small form. She wasn't real, she couldn't be real.

Could she?

Daryl saw her eyes widen as she took in the faces of people she knew, people she was honestly probably still searching for. Daryl felt it, the moment her eyes landed on his. All he wanted was to rush at her but he was still not certain she was real. And even if she was she would likely want to hug Maggie first not him. He did not want to stand in the way of their reunion.

A hand fell lightly on his shoulder then and he heard Maggie's voice whisper softly. "Go."

They could see her too. Beth was really here, alive, and _here._

That was all the encouragement that Daryl needed and he found his crossbow, his most cherished possession in the world, slipping from his fingers to land on the floor with a crash. Daryl barely heard it because he was already halfway to Beth, she was rushing the rest of the way to meet him, and then they were colliding together in a mess of limbs.

Her arms were wound so tight around his neck Daryl found it hard to breath as he wrapped his arms around her holding her far closer than was likely necessary. She felt so solid, so alive in his arms that Daryl felt his knees begin to give out.

Slowly they sank to the floor of the church, her breathless giggle lost as Daryl began to mumble a thank you. He didn't know who he was thanking, the woman in his arms or the portrait of Christ hanging before him. Beth wound her hands in his hair as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and Daryl found the words slipping past his lips again, just before her lips covered his own.

That time Daryl knew who he was thanking.

He still wasn't a hundred percent sold on the idea of a God but it seemed that somewhere, someone had heard him.

Beth was alive and they had found each other.

Perhaps there was more to this God thing than Daryl had previously believed.


End file.
